The Secret Life of Tim McGee
by sasha1600
Summary: A case hits a bit too close to home for Tim. Warning: spanking of adult. Don’t like? Don’t read!
1. Chapter 1

**The Secret Life of Tim McGee**

**Summary:** A case hits a bit too close to home for Tim. **Warning:** spanking of adult. Don't like? Don't read!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I just play with them.

* * *

A/N: This is part of my 'Lessons' series and builds on a larger plot arc. Thanks to AislingK and draggon-flye for important suggestions.

* * *

**Warning: this story contains the spanking of an adult. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.**

* * *

_Tuesday:_

Tim glanced out the window and sighed, watching Palmer slam the rear doors on their dead petty officer and head for the driver's seat. They were just far enough from DC to make commuting to the crime scene unreasonable; unlike Ducky and his assistant, the rest of the team would be staying on at the only motel in the depressingly quiet little town. Tony had already been head-slapped once for doing his 'duelling banjos' routine, and Tim wasn't particularly thrilled about their extended stay, either.

The laptop in front of him finished booting up and he tore his attention away from the window. The system didn't require a password, and a quick check of a few directories revealed that it was only used for personal things that its owner obviously didn't think needed much security – some music, some photos, a couple of e-books, a file of assignments for an on-line college course, nothing of much interest to the investigation. He jotted some notes on his pad anyway, just in case Gibbs asked for details.

Seeing that the computer had connected to a wireless internet signal, he opened the browser. A local news site, the weather prominently displayed in the top corner, blinked onto the screen. He made a note of the unremarkable homepage, and clicked on the favourites menu. Work email. A free web-based email service – _probably for personal mail_, he thought. He'd have to crack the passwords for those, eventually. A few more news sites. A DVD club. A couple of shopping sites. _Nothing noteworthy_, he thought, scanning his eyes down the list.

His eyes came to rest on the last item, and he blinked in surprise. He scrolled down to the link to the MMORPG and waited for it to load. He knew there was a 'stay logged-in' option, and he hoped that the petty officer had used it; given the lack of security anywhere else on the laptop, it didn't seem too implausible. And, to his relief, a few seconds later the game was blinking at him, ready for a next move that would never be made. His eyes tracked to where he knew the player's screen-name would be displayed.

_Nonononononono.... she can't be..._

But the evidence was unmistakeable. Petty Officer Elizabeth Black was FaerieQueen.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wednesday:_

'Did you notice anything unusual about your daughter, Mrs. Black?'

'No. She seemed... she seemed like Liz. She'd only been home a few days, Agent Gibbs. She was excited about being on leave, catching up with friends, going to her cousin's baby shower next weekend. Just... normal.'

'She didn't seem worried about anything?'

'Just that Amy might ask her to be the godmother.'

'That's something to worry about?'

'All those people watching her... she never could stand being the focus of attention like that.'

Gibbs smiled sympathetically.

'Ok. Was there anyone in particular she wanted to see while she was home?'

'Her grandmother. A couple of girls she went to high school with. And she was going to drive into the city to see some boy that she met on the internet. I warned her to be careful with those dating clubs they have these days, but she said they met playing some game, and started talking because their make-believe names sounded like they should know each other, or... something. I didn't really understand, but she promised that she'd be careful, and they were only meeting in a coffee shop....'

'Do you know what game she was playing?'

'Some silly role-playing thing about wizards and castles or something like that.'

'And do you know anything about this guy she met?'

'She said his name was ElfLord. I don't know what the world is coming to, Agent Gibbs. Grown people playing make-believe with their computers...'


	3. Chapter 3

_Wednesday night:_

'...but I don't think she had anything to do with it. And I couldn't get in touch with the last witness on my list – Dana O'Rourke's husband told me she was supervising a school trip to Colonial Williamsburg.'

'Ok. Follow up tomorrow.'

'Will do, Boss.'

'What about the e-mail, McGee?'

Tim looked up at Gibbs, who was sitting in the only chair in the room. Tony was perched on the desk, his legs swinging like a little kid. Tim himself was sitting up against the headboard of his bed. He'd been given the largest of the rooms available at the little motel, because he needed a place to set up the computer equipment he needed. It also meant that team conferences tended to happen here. He'd been kept awake the night before by the lingering odour of the pizza Tony had insisted on ordering, even though it was after ten by the time they got a chance to sit down and hash out the case. At least tonight they'd eaten at a local diner before coming back here to talk in private.

'I still haven't cracked the password on her work account, Boss. And it looks like she didn't keep read messages in her personal account. There were a couple of new emails, but that was it. Two of them were junk – that Nigerian bank scam, and an ad for 'male enhancement'...'

Tony snorted.

'...someone called Charlie sent a broadcast message to a few dozen people asking if anyone wanted a kitten, and Dana O'Rourke wanted the recipe for the cake she brought to a potluck two days before she was killed.'

'So we've still got nothing.'

Tim met Tony's eyes across the room, neither of them willing to say it.

'Ok. McGee, I want you to get that box of evidence to Abby first thing in the morning. And hopefully you'll be able to get into that email once you're back at your desk. If I need you back here, I'll call.'

Tim nodded, readily agreeing to any assignment that had him returning to civilisation. And Gibbs was right that he'd have a much better chance of cracking the password on Petty Officer Black's work e-mail account if he had the full resources of NCIS at his disposal, rather than just his field kit.

'DiNozzo, you and I will finish up with the interviews here and see where we are.'

Tony nodded less enthusiastically, clearly displeased about not being sent home himself. Gibbs dismissed him with a distracted goodnight, rising from his own chair. Tony pushed himself off of the desk and headed for the door.

To Tim's surprise, Gibbs didn't immediately follow. Instead, he came over and perched on the edge of the bed.

Tim instinctively pulled himself a little straighter, responding unconsciously to the memory of his father doing the same thing.

'Uh... Boss?'

'Would you like to tell me why you've been lying to me, Tim?'


	4. Chapter 4

Tim gaped at him.

'Boss... I... I haven't lied...'

'A lie of omission is still a lie, Tim.'

'Uh... I...'

'The first words out of your mouth when you saw that body, should have been that you knew the victim.'

'I didn't!'

'Tim...' Gibbs said, warningly.

'We never met!'

'You've been exchanging emails for months.'

Tim's eyes grew impossibly wider.

'How... how did you...'

'She told her mother she met an 'Elf Lord' on-line. An Elf Lord who lives in DC and works for the Navy. That was you, wasn't it?'

Tim just stared at him.

'Wasn't it?!'

'Yes, Boss,' Tim answered, in a small voice.

'So why didn't you tell me that when we got here?'

'I really didn't recognise her, Boss! We were _going_ to meet, but we never actually _did_...'

'And you never saw a photo of her?'

'No, Boss... her avatar was a portrait of Elizabeth I...'

'Her ava-what?'

'Avatar. It's an image that you use instead of your real picture, to represent your on-line identity.'

'And hers was...'

'Elizabeth I. Her screen name was FaerieQueen – you know, like Spenser's poem... and her real name was... uh... anyway, I never saw a photo. I didn't know it was her until I started going through her computer...'

'That was still yesterday.'

Tim didn't reply.

'Wasn't it.'

Gibbs steely tone made it barely a question.

'Uh... yeah.'

'And yet you didn't think to mention it, despite how many conversations about the case? Even when I specifically asked you if you'd found anything relevant on PO Black's computer?'

'I didn't want...'

'You didn't want _what_, McGee?'

'I didn't want to put up with Tony making fun of me for meeting a girl on-line. He's been in one of his smart-ass moods all week. And he's already been saying that everyone I'm interested in turns out to be either a psycho, or a murderer, or ends up getting killed, so...'

Tim cringed under the glare he received.

'You jeopardised an investigation because you were afraid DiNozzo would _tease_ you?'

'Jeopar... Boss, I never...'

'How's it going to look when we find this guy, if it goes to court? Do you have any idea what kind of field day the guy's lawyer is going to have, with this? _I _know you didn't have anything to do with the murder, but it's not going to be hard to make a _jury_ think you were covering your own ass.'

Tim felt the blood draining from his face.

'I didn't think of..'

'No, Tim, you clearly didn't _think_!'

'Boss, I...I...'

'Is there anything else you haven't been telling me, Tim?'

'No, Boss.'

'Good. You know better than this.'

Tim just nodded glumly, not trusting his voice.

'And I don't think I have to tell you that it had better not happen again.'

'It won't, Boss. I... I promise,' he managed to choke out.

'Ok,' Gibbs said, getting to his feet. 'Roll over.'


	5. Chapter 5

'B...b...boss... I... please...' Tim sputtered, the order unexpected. Gibbs was planning to whip him _here_? _now?_ In the middle of a case, when he'd have no opportunity to curl up and lick his wounds?

'NOW, Timothy!'

He responded instinctively to the command tone, scooting away from the headboard so he could turn over onto his stomach. But, suddenly remembering Gibbs's earlier instructions, he hesitated.

'Boss, can't this wait until we're home? It's just... you wanted me to drive back in the morning, so I'm going to have to be sitting, and...'

Tim trailed off, his eyes widening as he realised that Gibbs _meant_ for him to have to drive back with a sore butt. Swallowing hard, he stretched out face-down and buried his head, his hands fisted tightly in a pillow.

He was painfully aware that he was sprawled on a bed, like a teenager being disciplined by his father. Gibbs normally had him bend over a table or desk or, once, his basement workbench, and even that was enough to make Tim feel a very personal connection with his boss. This reminded him more strongly of the way his dad would always sit on his bed and take him over his knees, on the few occasions when he was spanked as a child. Including once, he remembered ruefully, for lying.

He heard Gibbs removing his belt and his body tensed in anticipation of the first lash.

He hadn't been spanked since he found out that his father knew about Gibbs's discipline methods. And approved. And would have done the same thing, if he'd thought he needed it, growing up.

Now, waiting for the inevitable pain at his boss's hands, he found himself wondering what it would have been like, with his dad.

It wasn't hard for him to think of an occasion when it might well have happened. At fourteen, desperate to see the new Star Trek movie on the day it opened, and knowing that the crowd outside the theatre would be too big by the time school was out for the day for him to have any chance of getting in, he'd cut class to secure a place near the front of the line. It hadn't occurred to him at the time that his father might whip him if he got caught; spankings were rare in his childhood, and the prospect of a belt being used was as foreign to him as Captain Kirk's forays into Klingon diplomacy. In retrospect, it was probably as close to a serious spanking as he'd ever come. But he hadn't been found out, the forged note about the non-existent dentist appointment not raising any suspicions at the school where a shy, quiet teenaged Tim had given them no reason to expect deception.

He was still lost in his memories when he felt the sharp pain of Gibbs's belt landing hard on his ass. And, for a moment, he thought it was his father, punishing him for his adolescent misconduct.

A second searing stroke tore a gasp of pain from him and brought him crashing back to the reality of the present. His hands tightened helplessly around fistfuls of pillow, and he yelped loudly as the belt landed again.

It was only then that he realised to his dismay that the thin walls would do little to muffle the sounds of Gibbs's belt against his ass or his own cries. Tony, in the next room, would know he was being spanked, as would any other guests in the small motel. Horrified, he bit down hard on the abused pillow, trying to suppress his anguished sobs.

The action reminded him again of his childhood. He'd always hated the idea of his sister hearing him cry. It was bad enough that Sarah could hear that he was being spanked, but no self-respecting big brother wanted to admit that a couple of swats on the ass reduced him to tears. Now, hoping to conceal the worst of his distress from Tony, he found himself very aware of his partner's frequent assertions that the team was a family... and he very much did not want his 'brother' hearing him screaming in pain!

And, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't have to wonder what it would have been like, being whipped by his father. It would be like this.

He respected Gibbs deeply, trusted him without question, and was mortified by the knowledge that he'd let him down. He didn't think it would be any more intense, emotionally, if his father were the one making it so painfully clear that he'd messed up.

And, physically, he was pretty sure that the wide leather belt his father favoured when he wasn't in uniform would probably feel a lot like Gibbs's well-worn... and well-used... standard accessory. The only difference, he thought, would be that the slightly sharper sting and darker bruising where the end of the belt bit deeper into his flesh would be on the other side of his butt; his father, left-handed like himself, would position himself opposite to where Gibbs was now.

The pain continued to build, each stroke a blaze of fire. It wasn't long before he was sobbing into the pillow, his desire to remain quiet notwithstanding. Just when he was sure he could stand no more, it stopped.

Tim continued to cry, his shoulders shaking with tears, reacting as much to the emotions generated by his own mind as to the pain of the whipping. He regretted missing out on his usual post-spanking hug, but the thought of moving was too unbearable.

To his surprise, he felt the mattress dip and a moment later felt a comforting hand rubbing his back. It wasn't exactly a hug, but the sentiment was clearly the same.

As the sting began to fade, Tim, physically and emotionally drained, felt himself drifting towards sleep. He was dimly aware of Gibbs getting up from his perch at the side the bed, and he felt the loss of his presence with a bit of sadness. He heard the closet door open and close, but didn't have time for more than a moment's curiosity before he felt a warm blanket being gently laid over him. The last thing he was aware of before sleep claimed him was his boss's callused hands arranging the edge softly around his shoulders.


	6. Chapter 6

Tim rooted through his bag of purchases. A small plastic food storage tub with a tight-fitting cover was already waiting on the hood of his car. Finally finding the elusive avocado, he pulled out the small knife that Gibbs had taught him to carry and cut it open, scraped the soft flesh into the tub, and awkwardly mashed it with the flat of the blade.

Breakfast had been a miserable experience. His ass hurt like hell, and the chairs in the motel dining-room were unpadded wood. He'd squirmed uncomfortably, making a mental note to add a tube of sunburn lotion to the over-night bag he kept at the office.

Tony had met his eyes, silently asking if he was alright, and what he'd done wrong, but Gibbs's presence had prevented him from inquiring openly. And, mercifully, Tony had been sent on some errand as soon as he'd finished eating, sparing Tim from having to dodge his questions while he loaded the evidence into the trunk for the drive back to DC. But he'd still felt very self-conscious, knowing that his partner had no doubt heard what had happened.

And he was sure that the other occupants of the breakfast room were staring at him as well. The elderly woman at the next table had glanced at them several times, and Tim was convinced that she thought Gibbs was an old-fashioned father who had disciplined one of his sons the night before. And from the looks they were getting from a younger couple across the room, he suspected that they'd reached entirely the wrong conclusion about what they'd heard.

And then, however grateful he was to escape from that situation, the alternative was an equally miserable drive home. Despite the padded seat, sitting hurt, and every shift in his position sent fresh sparks of pain shooting through him. He'd finally pulled off the highway in search of relief. A quick prowl through a drug store had confirmed his suspicion that sun-burn remedies would be difficult to find at this time of year, and he'd headed for the supermarket next door, hoping he could remember Abby's recipe.

Now, stopped at the side of an isolated stretch of highway, he spent several minutes squeezing and stirring, adding various ingredients to the messy green mush. He knew he was missing a few things, but he'd done the best he could with what was available at the store he'd found. He'd even found a scraggly aloe plant in the garden centre; it wasn't what Abby had used in her home-made spanking remedy, but, while he knew little about herbal medicine, he knew enough to know that aloe was good for irritated skin. He broke off the plumpest leaf, slit it open, and scrapped out the gooey contents. Satisfied, he fished the tea bag out of the steaming cup he'd purchased at a donut shop he'd passed, and squeezed it over the concoction. He gave it a last stir, hoping that the missing ingredients wouldn't matter too much.

He grabbed the sad-looking plant and stuck it on the floor in the back of the car. He wasn't good with house-plants, usually killing them with remarkable efficiency, but he'd let it take its chances on his kitchen window-sill. It might come in handy, he thought with a self-deprecating smile, as he pulled a pair of loose-fitting sweat-pants out of a tote-bag on the back seat. They'd be more comfortable than the chinos he was wearing, and he didn't care as much if they got ruined by the rather messy avocado-mush.

He retrieved the plastic tub and made his way carefully into the shelter of a thick cluster of shrubs where he could change his pants and apply the 'cream'. He kept a wary eye out for poison ivy. The last thing he needed was to make the problem worse.


	7. Chapter 7

'Ok, I'll take care of that as soon as... oh, wait, he just got here. Ok, I'll tell him. B... Hi, Tim! Gibbs just hung up on me. He said to tell you that they caught the guy and he confessed, so you're off the hook about the defence lawyer, whatever that means. Apparently one of the petty officer's mother's neighbours got turned down by a recruiter because he's nuttier than a fruitcake, and he decided to blame the fact that there are so many women in the Navy these days, 'taking jobs away from men,' as he put it, so he... what's wrong?'

Tim set the box he was carrying down on one of the tables and seized Abby by the shoulders.

'You've got to help me!'

'Ok... what's wrong? Tim? You're scaring me...'

'I tried making some myself on the way back, but the store didn't have everything, and I wasn't sure I remembered everything you put in it anyway... and I hoped it would be good enough, but it didn't really do very much other than make a mess, and the guys down in the motor pool are probably going to kill me, trying to get the upholstery clean... and then I had to change so I could come in to work, so I had to put a garbage bag on the seat so I could drive the car back here, and...'

'Tim! You're not making any sense! You tried to make what?'

'Your cream! You know, with the avocado and...'

Abby's eyes widened.

'Gibbs spanked you?'

Tim nodded, finally breaking off his rambling.

'What for?'

'Because I didn't tell him that I knew the victim, and he said that was the same as lying to him, and...'

'You _knew_ Petty Officer Black?'

'Yeah. Well, sort of. We played the same MMORPG, chatted a few times, were going to meet up while she was home on leave...'

'Omigawd! Tim, I'm so sorry! Are you ok?'

Abby's question hit him like a shockwave. He'd been so focused on hoping that Tony didn't find out about his on-line encounter, and then upset about Gibbs's reaction, that he hadn't really dealt with the fact that someone he knew had died. His face must have shown his sudden distress, because he found himself pulled into one of Abby's rib-crushing hugs. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and buried his face in her hair, soaking up the comfort she offered.

He eventually stepped back, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump that had formed in his throat and hoping that he looked more pulled-together than he felt.

'Yeah, I'm ok, Abby.'

She raised a sceptical eyebrow at him but didn't say anything.

'So... about that cream?'


End file.
